74 Travel Africa Summer 2012

Anthony Ham proves that rewarding hiking and astounding views over the dramatic landscapes of the

Great Rift Valley needn’t involve a multi-day expedition up one of East Africa’s monumental mountains. Here he tackles the slopes of Mount Longonot and explores the

volcanic confi nes of Hell’s Gate National Park.

he trail climbs, gently at fi rst, then more steeply

through thin scrub. The rim of the volcano above,

shapely and serrated, seems impossibly high. In the

distance zebra and impala graze, watchful, and there

is sign of bu� alo. Under the still-benign morning sun,

grasses sway in a gentle breeze. I climb.

Of all African landscapes, it is the Great Rift Valley, that

great fractal scar that once threatened to tear the continent

asunder, that most evokes an epic. Volcanoes smoulder. Steep

foothills climb to perfectly formed snow cones high above the

tropics. And jagged summits resemble the ruined ramparts of

some terrible and ancient kingdom.

However, unless you’re willing to mount a major expedition

to high-altitude peaks such as Kilimanjaro, Mount Kenya or the

Rwenzoris, the lofty drama of the Great Rift can seem tantalisingly

beyond the reach of mere mortals. From below, the Rift’s mountains

are pretty if somehow aloof. Atop their summits, they dominate and

cast into shadow all that they survey.

Here in Kenya, Mount Longonot, one of the Rift’s lesser-known

mountains, brings that drama within easy reach. From the entrance

of the national park that bears its name to the crater rim it is at most

a one-and-a-half-hour climb. Its two steep sections are moderated

by moments of respite in between. And unlike the more popular

Kenyan mountain ascents, fellow trekkers are few and hassles from

would-be guides even fewer.

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Summer 2012 Travel Africa 75

Kenya

Anthony Ham lives in Madrid, but spends much of his time travelling in Africa. He is a regular contributor to Travel Africa and has authored many Lonely Planet guidebooks, including the latest Kenya edition.

Anthony Ham

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A spot of lunch while looking down into Mount Longonot’s crater from its serated rim

76 Travel Africa Summer 201276 Travel Africa Summer 2012

Rumours of isolated populations of spotted baboons

and klipspringer in the crater’s depths ring true, although

I see none. But the existence of bu� alo down below seems

like a fanciful Rift Valley tale. Above it all, wrapping around

the crater in a protective embrace, the succession of sharp

undulations that defi ne the crater’s lip bring to life the

mountain’s name: Longonot derives from the Maasai name

olo nongot, or ‘mountain of many summits’.

I linger, drawn by the temptation to gaze into

the heart of Longonot for hours, or forever. But the

sun is already high, and it drives me down o� the

rim for the return journey.

And then I stop, suddenly drawn by an equally

powerful urge: to return to the rim and follow the trail

that circumnavigates the crater. I stand, undecided.

Finally, taunted by the idea that to descend now is

perhaps never to return, I climb again and set out to

climb the mountain’s many summits.

Following the ridgeline, I ascend and descend with

the contours of the crater, never fearful of falling but

always torn which way to look. Do I look outward over

Right: Climbing to the summit involves navigating your way up the scenic crater rim

Below: The picture perfect crater of Mount Longonot AN

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En route to the summit, I spot sunlight glinting on

metal roofs away in the distance and hear the sounds

of the Rift’s human tra� c rising from the valley fl oor.

For much of the climb, the clamour of the Rift – where

cultures clash and coexist, where the main trans-African

thoroughfare passes – is a disturbing presence. But the

further I climb, the more the world and its noisy ways

recede and the essential elements of the Rift’s vertical

drama take hold. Away to the northwest, Lake Naivasha

glistens. Elsewhere, lesser peaks rise within sight of the

Rift’s abrupt valley wall.

When I crest the volcanic rim, all sound drifts

away as the crater itself surpasses even the most

beautiful of Rift views.

Far below, hundreds of metres down the

vertiginous walls of the inner crater, is a lost, almost

inaccessible, world rich in suggestion. Dense forest

carpets the six-square-kilometre crater fl oor, with

occasional small clearings merely adding to the sense of

mystery and remoteness from the human world. Some

contain thinly spaced steam vents that break through

the earth’s crust as a reminder of the Rift’s enduring

power. Formed 400,000 years ago, Mount Longonot

last erupted as recently as the 1860s. Today, a staggering

thirty Rift Valley volcanoes still remain active.

Of all African landscapes, it is the Great Ri� Valley, that great fractal scar that once threatened

to tear the continent asunder, that most resembles an epic

Summer 2012 Travel Africa 77Summer 2012 Travel Africa 77

the Rift Valley or shift my gaze inward to the changing

perspective of the crater, fulfi lling my urge to search in

vain for signs of animal life? Occasionally a distant hiker

comes into view far across the crater, and birds of prey

circle high overhead on the thermals; swifts snap low

overhead and then are gone with a whipcrack sound.

The climbs along the rim are gentle until the fi nal

push for the summit, which sits at 2776m elevation,

some 1000m above the valley fl oor. Weary, I fi nd it

di� cult to gain traction over the coarse, unstable black

volcanic sand and curse my decision not to return down

the mountain. And then, not for the fi rst time today,

reaching the zenith of the hike changes everything.

From here the crater is at its most expansive, a

vast bowl of green high above a land thirsty for rain.

The crater plunges down into the abyss and dizzy

with tiredness and wonder, I stare longingly into

the precipice, yearning to fl y. Westwards, the land

formations of Hell’s Gate, rippling and otherworldly,

call to me from across the chasm, an entirely di� erent

manifestation of the Rift Valley’s folds and creases.

Carefully, and with regret, I leave the summit

and follow the steeply descending trail until, more

than two hours after aborting my fi rst descent,

I turn for one last look at the crater. And then, with

newly purposeful steps, I leave it all behind and

start down, safe in the knowledge that if I ever

return, this mountain of many summits will remain

unchanged with the passing of the years.

The next day, the exhilaration of the climb has

given way to muscle soreness and self-satisfaction.

But that distant glimpse of Hell’s Gate – Mount

Longonot’s low-altitude alter ego – haunts me, still

calling to me from across the valley. Partly it is the

landscape, the crinkled, furrowed scar running across

the Rift Valley fl oor. But it is also the name, a call

perhaps to honour the Rift Valley’s history of violent

upheaval. But in this country where so much of the

countryside and its wildlife may only be seen from

the safety of a vehicle, Hell’s Gate National Park has

one more calling card: this is one of very few Kenyan

parks where you can walk and cycle its trails.

Top: Hell’s Gate National Park is one place you can embrace East Africa’s wildlife from the seat of a bicycle

Above: The striking columnar basalt cliffs loom large over much of Hell’s Gate

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Summer 2012 Travel Africa 79

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Summer 2012 Travel Africa 79

Unlike on Longonot, the views of Hell’s Gate are best

from ground level. Not long after I cycle into the park

along its fl at and well-maintained trails, the sheer and

strangely striated cli� s of rusty basalt begin to crowd

in, compressing surrounding savannah grasses into a

narrow funnel. The presence of eland and zebra, gira� e

and warthog, impala and bu� alo heightens the senses.

So too does the knowledge that rarely-seen predators –

leopards, hyenas, lions – are occasionally counted among

the national park’s animal population. Where the gorge

narrows, an unusual, 25m-high pyramidal volcanic plug

rises from the ochre soil, and its story carries echoes of the

perdition that gives the park its name.

According to Maasai legend, a beautiful young

woman was sent from her village, betrothed against

her will to a famous warrior from a nearby settlement.

As in the Biblical tale of Lot’s wife, before leaving home

she was warned never to look back over her shoulder.

Heartbroken and already homesick, she was unable to

resist one last, longing look. And in an instant she was

cast forever into stone.

But the pyramid bears the name not of this

unfortunate Maasai girl, but that of a German explorer,

Gustav Fischer, who reached this spot in 1882. Sent out by

the Hamburg Geographical Society to fi nd a route from

Mombasa to Lake Victoria, he was ambushed by a band of

Maasai warriors. Fischer’s entire party was massacred.

Any unease caused by such dark histories

dissipates as I pass a trickle of cyclists and hikers, some

local, most not, but all proof that dangers here are few.

The birds of prey and terrestrial wildlife are distant

enough to make me feel safe, yet so close as to feel that

we inhabit the same terrain. And with the canyon’s fl oor

barely rising or falling, it is easy going.

At the gorge’s midpoint the trail forks, and I cycle

north up to the Naiburta campsite and onto one of the

broad grassy ledges that overlook the main gorge. This

is one of Kenya’s prettiest places to sleep in the open

air, and the views back

down the valley are the

park’s fi nest.

Back down on the

main trail the gorge

meanders between

cli� s, which obscure

any hint of the outside

world. Like Longonot

and yet utterly unlike

it, Hell’s Gate feels like a forgotten place that has been

overlooked by the onslaught of Kenya’s burgeoning

human population.

In the park’s western reaches another volcanic

plug, a fi nger of rock prosaically named Central Tower,

watches over Lower Gorge. While the main canyon

that bisects the park can be up to 1km wide in places,

Lower Gorge is a deep, narrow gash slicing into the

Top: A narrow gorge in Hell’s Gate National Park

Bottom: Early morning mist around Fischer’s Tower, an ancient volcanic plug

earth. Rarely steep, the gorge’s challenge comes from

its proliferation of trees and the water that sculpted it.

A young Maasai boy emerges shyly from the shadows,

shows me a hot spring emerging from the canyon wall,

and then continues on his way.

Scrambling over mossy rocks and splashing

through ankle-deep water, I marvel at the variety of the

Rift’s landscapes as sunlight fi lters down through the

canopy. Yesterday I felt as if I were standing on the roof

of the world. Today, I wonder if I’m about to descend

into the very depths of the earth.

There is another di� erence. Atop Longonot I was

glad to have chosen to climb without a guide – the trail

was clearly marked and the landscape lent itself to

solitude. As I drop ever deeper into Lower Gorge, I fi nd

myself longing for human company, wishing that I

had contracted one of the young guides waiting at the

ranger’s post – they regarded me with knowing smiles

as I shunned their polite invocations.

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the vertiginous walls of the inner crater, Far below, hundreds of metres down

is a lost, almost inaccessible, world rich in suggestion